Myra, Our Guest

Myra, Our Guest

The weekend loomed ahead. I was in a state of limbo. Random thoughts like little pieces of paper would stick momentarily in my mind but nothing tangible to give it shape in writing. I guess I was afflicted by writer’s block. The rows of books on the shelf had lost its lure; music was unable to soothe my nerves. The movie buff in me was just not interested in staring at a screen and indulging in a celluloid world. Just as I was beginning to think how to while away my time in a more constructive way, my son throws this bombshell on Friday afternoon. On returning from school he asks me, “Ma can we keep my friend’s five month old pup for two days?” It was a surprise and not a very pleasant one because I knew my mom is not very fond of dogs and staying with her I had to follow some guidelines. Besides I was not in the mood to take on another responsibility even if that was for two days. But I didn’t have the heart to say “no” to my son, knowing how much he loves dogs and would do anything to have one in the house even if it is a temporary arrangement. Besides I thought it was only for the weekend and Ron can take care of the pup, I don’t want anything to do with her. It turned out our guest was to stay with us till Tuesday.

As luck would have it, Myra, our guest arrived when Ron was not in the house. I had to single handedly take on the responsibility of welcoming her. From the look in her eyes I could tell she was nervous and sad that she had to stay away from her mistress, namely Ron’s friend. I couldn't resist Myra, she had such a tender look that I fussed over her which prompted Ron’s friend to say “you really love dogs don’t you?” Yes I love dogs but having gone through a never ending nightmare with one a couple of years back had stripped me of all desires to have one again in this lifetime. I was so bitter and angry that despite having grown up with dogs in the house I no longer thought I had it in me to keep one again.

Myra adapted to her temporary dwelling quite effortlessly, after a little whining when her mistress left and she and I took to each other immediately. I played with her, wrestled with her, hugged her, kissed her and she in turn slobbered me till Ron came home. She was a bit shy initially with Ron but was soon following him around the house. Friday night was an exciting night for Myra in terms of the unknown. First she comes to stay amongst strangers then she gets to take a drive to my friend’s where we were going for dinner. I called my friend to tell her that I am bringing a guest with us. She tried guessing but I told her it was a surprise and what a surprise! The entire time we were there Myra was the center of attraction. She thoroughly made the most of her night out. She was so adorable!

She is the most well behaved pup I have come across. I was dreading her chewing up everything that came across her path. The first night we kept everything that could be chewed out of her reach but we realized that our fears were misplaced. All she needed was a ball that she could chew on and play with. As for soiling the house she would inform us by whining that she needed to go out and relieve herself.

I don’t know how the weekend flew. Every moment with her we were getting attached to her, both Ron and I would keep telling each other that she was just a guest who will leave soon and we shouldn’t get too fond of her. But we were totally in love with this beautiful Labrador pup.

Myra leaves tomorrow. I know we will miss her terribly but life goes on. I don’t even know if I will ever see her again but she was an angel who showered us with love and joy. She was like a balm to my frayed nerves; she was like a breath of fresh air with her unconditional love and her playfulness. She has healed me, she has filled me with her love so much that I am toying with the idea of having a dog in the house. Even my mother couldn’t help but notice how adorable and well behaved a pup she was. She would follow my mom despite all the discouragement. Somehow in these three days Myra has managed to wriggle herself into our hearts. I suppose we all needed a dose of love and so god sent us this angel to fill our days with laughter and a sense of purpose.

As A Mother

As A Mother…..

For days now I have been reading posts about child abuse in the blogging world. In silence I read them as the horror of it all totally shakes my belief that there is more “good” in this world than “bad”. What is it that makes men behave like animals? Fathers, brothers, uncles? And what do mothers do when they know that their child is being abused regularly by their husbands or boyfriends? Turn a blind eye? How is it allowed to happen? Children are angels and they are meant to be cherished, loved and kept safe. I try to place myself in their skin and imagine the fear, the dread and the kind of helplessness they experience every time their predator attacks them. Nowhere to run, nowhere to go for help, suffering day and night, lost and frightened angels. I know the enormity of the horrors that they have gone through cannot be imagined, the emotional and psychological scarring and damage haunting them for the rest of their lives. I am a mother of a 17 year old and I have always warned my son about strangers. There have been instances when some stranger has approached him and his friend with a candy or chocolate but they have had the sense to walk away from it. As a mother I have tried to protect him from harm. Mothers are supposed to do that, protect their little ones. They are tigresses when it comes to their cubs being kept away from harm’s way. So what do mothers of children that are abused on a daily basis do? Don’t they realize what is happening or are they scared too and prefer to keep quiet about it?

Awareness of child abuse is still something of a taboo here in India. Incest and abuse have been going on for decades amongst families especially joint families but for most self denial is the best attitude, while the abused grows up haunted by demons. It is only of late that NGOs and organizations are coming up to rehabilitate an abused child but for most it is still preferred to bury your head in the sand and pretend nothing is wrong. I know of mothers who have refused to believe their child and done nothing to put a stop to it, perhaps they cannot accept the fact that it is happening to their child or perhaps they do not want to shake their comfort zone of a happy settled family. I often wonder what these mothers think of when they watch their child. Do they too feel helpless or do they just become desensitized? Or do they unconsciously blame their child for bringing this upon themselves? I really don’t know. I as a mother would have killed or taken my child and run as far away as possible from the beast. What would you as a mother do if you knew this kind of a heinous act was occurring in your home?

This is a poem I came across on the net. I leave you to read it and ponder…..

There is no peace....

The night falls gentle upon the earth

But hard within the heart of a terror-filled child.

There is no peace this night

But a sentry-like awareness of

Every noise, every movement

Within the house.

A silent prayer is taken upon the wings

Of the mourning dove

Who waters the ground below with its tears

Watching puddles form where each drop lands

Forming a new ocean of sorrow.

There is no peace this night.

The tender child draws itself

Into a tiny ball as if to disappear

... Footsteps are heard in the hall

"Please no" is whispered, "Please go" is prayed

As the doorknob quietly turns.

There is no peace this night.

The dove soars higher, shaking sobs within its breast

Penetrating clouds, gliding on wind

Seeking its source

Looking for the Light

Knowing there will be no peace this night.

The shadow falls across

Clenched fists, tousled curls,

Drawn up limbs, eyes squeezed shut

Against the scene about to unfold

Scarcely breathing, knowing

There is no peace this night.

Feverishly winging toward

The rainbow of light and celestial destination,

The dove contracts and gasps with the pain

Of its little charges' spirit

And delivers the message

To the being of Light & Beauty

Who swoops down to grasp the hand of the child

And deliver its pain to another dimension

To be stored until the child is stronger

And able to face the reality of evil on the earth.

The angel cradles her charge,

Gently rocking, while tears stream down her face...

Mixing with the silent tears of the child.

The dove quietly sings its grievous song of mourning

For the lost innocence of this precious tot.

There is no peace this night.

- Pamela Prentiss-Harrison

Our Kiss

Our Kiss

 Your eyes look

Into my soul

Awakening it

From a listless stupor

It soars once again

To dance in

The flame of our love

I gaze into the

Fathomless depths

Of your love laden eyes

My tremulous lips

Raised

I wait for yours

To take mine.

Time stretches into eternity

Words …meaningless

And in that passionate silence

As I fall into your arms

And we become one

In that hungry kiss

A familiar desire

Stirs in our hearts

A knowing…

A homecoming…

A realization…

This is our kiss

Ageless, timeless

Felt across countless

Lifetimes…

A Mere Shadow

A Mere Shadow….

Beads of emotions…

Countless tiny pearly beads 

Burst forth…

The seams of my heart tear

As they spill all around me

Scattered and lost

You gather me in your arms

Picking as many…

Strewn glistening beads

Cooing words…

Of love and comfort

As you try stringing

Them patiently,

While my kohl smeared eyes

Weeps in silence

A momentary calm

Settles…

Fleeting rays of sunshine

Seep in

Illuminating

The darkness within…

But then again

The gnawing ache throbs

That one lone bead of pain

Stays lodged in my heart

Spreading its poison

My heart is black and blue

Numb and cold

A receptacle of sadness

I have become a

Mere shadow

Of what I had been…

Oh Nooooooo….STD!

Oh Nooooooo….STD!

Bloggers beware! STD is spreading like wild fire in the blogging world, transmitted through fellow bloggers. I came across STD just the other day while visiting Jessica’s blog, Finding One’s Way and I thought, “Oh God! STD (Sexually Transmitted Disease)?” Before I knew it STD was passed on to me by the same Jessica, yes none other than sexy lady, Jessica Brant.

I squirmed in my seat. “ME and STD? I am not itching like Alejandro Guzman! What the f****K! I have been so careful so how come? Anyway before my other blogger friends start wondering I need to pass this on to others, STD (Sexy and Talented Diploma) a contagious disease that has its origin in Adventures In Estrogen by Lady Estrogen . Thank you for this unique honor, Jessica and Stephanie for starting it.

Now comes the responsibility part. Below are the rules that we contagious lot need to adhere to.

1. Make up ONE totally ridiculous story about yourself that is a complete rip-off from a movie. It can be as long or short as you want; clean or crass as you want.

2. Pass it on to whomever you feel is deserving of this STD – or accept it and keep it for yourself; it’s your blog – it’s your choice.

3. If you choose to accept this STD, please link your acceptance post back to Adventures in Estrogenand to the person who gave you your STD (in your case it would be Journey)

You get the point?
You can choose to keep your STD for yourself. Yet if you choose to pass your STD around do it fervently and don’t forget to back link

4. Use the acronym “STD” as much as possible within you post (send SEO’s into a tale spin) I have used it 12x’s within this post.

My passionate tale:

A faint breeze moves the curtains of my bedroom. A silvery light filters through the open window. I sense his presence near me. Something deep within me stirs. I am excited and breathless. I keep my eyes closed and let my senses take over. His warm breath on my neck incites the fiery passion in me but I wait. I want to feel every touch of his before letting the floods of my passion drown me. I can feel his intense desire too. I groan in pleasure as I feel his tongue exploring my taut body. Oh god is this another dream or is he for real? I cannot hold on any longer, I can feel his breath near my mouth. I have to open my eyes; I have to see this Adonis, this gorgeous hunk that is creating this havoc in me. I want to be engulfed in his strong arms…I want to kiss him long and hard. I open my dreamy eyes… and there before me is these adorable pair of black eyes looking at me and about to slobber me with his tongue on my lips. Oh noooo…. But then again thank god it is only my 2 year old baby, my loyal Boxer, Bruno, no way STD can touch me!!!

Note: Men please don’t rush to take a cold shower!!!!

howaboutthis

Roy’s Garage Sell and Auction

Memoirs

Battered-Not-Broken

Depth

There my bloggers friends you have got the bug too so go forth and spread it!!!

An Ongoing Tale

He sits in the patio alone, watching the sun preparing to bid adieu for the day… white clouds swirling above match the whiteness of his hair… flocks of birds fly across the pink and orange horizon, heading home after a day’s work. A gentle autumn breeze caresses a lone leaf that still holds on to the branch, not willing to let go reminding him of his loneliness and his tenacity to hold on to his hope. People have come and gone but the emptiness in him never left him. For years now this has been a ritual for him, he never misses a sunset.

The years spent show on the lines of his craggy face. He was always a man of few words, reticent and reserved. He never believed in indulging in emotions, longings for a foregone past or worries of a future. He kept such indulges in a tight leash. Always a man of now…but today is a different day. Today, his mind like the clouds above, float to another time, to another life. He thinks of her, his one ­­­love.

Years roll away and he is transported to that time, that day when she came into his life. Life was good then; he thought life couldn’t be better, a good job, a beautiful house and a loving family. But unknowing to him there was this unfathomable void in his life, he wasn’t even aware of, till her. And when he did his life turned around, he felt complete. She fascinated him. She was all that he was not, lively, cheerful, open and full of life. While it was difficult for him to open up, she laid bare her soul to him, never hesitating to show her feelings to him. With her he slowly learned to express his innermost thoughts kept hidden all these years. They connected in so many levels, so tuned to each other. They often wondered… What was destiny up to? Was it to let them meet and then rip them apart? There had to be a reason why they met. It could not be just these brief stolen moments they had.

He hoped and believed that someday they would spend their life together. He had never felt love like the way he felt love for her.­­­­ He was happy. He wanted nothing more than to live life with her and yet he couldn’t. He had commitments, responsibilities towards his loved ones. He could not abandon them. So he made the choice for them. He set her free…

She was shattered but like him there was somewhere in her heart hope and belief that someday he would come and get her. Days became months and soon months became years. Worlds separated them. She tried to run away from the pain of waiting and longing but kept returning. Something about him left no room to sever all ties. She slipped in and out of his life. The first time she did that, he was lost and afraid. He thought she was gone from him for always. He couldn’t hold her because he had no right. He had to let her go. But she came back. Soon he became quite used to her escapades, knowing in his heart she would come back to him. And she did till one day….

It was one of those days when she tells him that she needs to go away from him. He no longer panics and he says that he understands. In the earlier days he would always ask her “For how long honey?” and she would always answer “I don’t know baby, till I feel I am strong enough to do so” or to his question “How will I know you are ok?”… “Don’t worry, if something happens to me you will be notified”. He is always restless when she disappears like this but being a patient man he waits…

Days roll into weeks. His uneasiness grows. Replies to his mails are left unanswered. Her phone remains switched off. Being a man of reason he keeps telling himself that she needs more time and she will come back to him. He also thinks perhaps she has met someone, someone who can fulfill her in every way and she needs time to tell him. Mixed emotions stir in his heart. He loves her so much that he wants her happiness and yet the thought of losing her to someone is something he is not prepared to deal with. He feels her pain, her longing, her desire to be with him which seems futile to her and sometimes even to him and yet he is not willing to give up on them. Days seem endless with no news of her and he immerses himself in his work to keep his sanity. More than a month later the call comes…It was quick the caller said. She died instantly as the truck swerved and hit her car but it took hours to pull her mangled body out of the wreckage. They found his phone number and a picture of him and her in her bag.

The blood drained off from his face, it was like lightening had struck him. He couldn’t move or speak for awhile. He doesn’t even remember what he told the person on the phone. He sat still for hours incapable of anything but as he slowly came back to his senses, he knew something of him died that day with her passing away. His pain and his loss was never noticed by anyone not even his close ones because he was never one to express or show much of his feelings. But since that fateful day he took to watching the sunset, as if searching for her there somewhere in that orange glow. That was his time with her.

A clock chimes in the house and his reverie is broken. A lone tear slides down his face. He still misses her. But his faith is unfailing. He still believes that he will be with her in another lifetime, to complete what they had begun. Their love story, their tale of a lifetime is yet to end….

   

Pressed Flowers

PRESSED FLOWERS….

As I turn the pages

Of my book of life

Gone by

Memories…

Like pressed flowers

Stare back at me

Some dead, some vibrant

Colors faded,

A broken stalk,

A torn petal,

Testimony to the

Scars and pain

Endured…

A mere shadow

Of what had been.

Some withered

And crushed

Blown away

By the winds of time

Some banished

Into oblivion

Others still fresh…

In their riot of colors

A crimson streak,

A flash of purple,

A virginal white,

A playful yellow,

A crispy green…

Some still move me

With their faint fragrance

While some numb

My weary soul

I pick up a random few

To carry in my heart…

Some bring a tear

Some a frown

And some a smile

While some stay

Locked away in time

To reminisce

On cold winter nights